


let the ashes fly

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Completely unedited, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Force Bond, Like, Loss of Virginity, Naive Reader, Not!Fic, Oblivious Reader, Sharing a Bed, Sith!Reader, let me reiterate this is a not!fic, lowkey stockholm syndrome, really really cliche, sooooo many cliche plot devices you have no idea, teacher kylo, unknown force abilities, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You're captured by Kylo Ren. It doesn't turn out to be all that bad.





	let the ashes fly

**Author's Note:**

> Just warning y'all, this is completely self-indulgent and written for my own enjoyment basically. I wrote this about thirty minutes after watching The Last Jedi and this has been sitting around in my notes for a while so I thought I might as well post it! Please don't come after me for any complaints about the plot (or lack thereof). I'm aware that lots of y/n's background may not be congruent with the star wars universe and is kind of bullshit. This was really less of a fic and more of a drabble/notfic type of thing. Anyways, I hope you can still enjoy it!

-you stand before him, blonde hair tied up in a haphazard ponytail and bangs falling into your eyes. you are wearing your mother’s moonstone pendant, forest green draped trousers, a white cropped top, an earth-toned knit cardigan slouching off your shoulders, and well-worn combat boots.

  
-he looks curiously at you; at your tear-streaked, reddened cheeks. your lashes stuck together by droplets. your chest rising and falling and shuddering. it hurts to breathe. your lungs ache.

  
-“don’t be afraid, y/n,” he says. He towers over you. So tall, so imposing, so strong.

  
-“what do you want from me?” you ask, prepared to beg and bargain for your freedom.

  
-you’re not the average prisoner. your family is in good standing, even working with the first order at times. your father is well-off. you live a life of almost luxury on the green planet of zanitis.

  
-“those little magic tricks you did in the street. who taught you those?” he asks, disregarding your question. he comes closer.

  
-you had a habit of performing in the street. you never really asked for money, you only liked watching the faces of the children light up in amusement. you’d levitate small objects, or animate their toys, having them dance or fight each other. it was fun. you knew not many others could do it, but didn’t think much of it.

  
-“I-I taught myself,” you stammer. “the force” is unheard of on your sheltered little planet, much less the dark and light side. you only know the first order and the rebels. the men your father worked with and the men who killed your mother.

  
-“all of it? the levitation? the lights? the projections?” he asked, still insistent.

  
-he’d been on a mission on your planet, attempting to locate the source of a rebel distress signal. it was a dead end, but it led to you.

  
-“all of it,” you say.

  
-he continues to probe you for answers, but he doesn’t get anything. he doesn’t like when he can’t find answers, but he can’t seem to get mad at you. he’s hardly frustrated.

  
-“your father. Markis Bartolomė. he is a first order sympathizer, correct?” he asks.

  
-you nod enthusiastically. “he is a peace officer. he stops riots constantly. he’s one of the highest ranks on the planet and-“

  
-he cuts you off. “I know. I’m a fan of his work. And I just...” he stops, laughing bitterly, and shakes his head. “I just abducted his daughter.”

  
-“he won’t mind. he’ll understand your mistake once you return me. he’ll probably want you to stay for dinner and have a good laugh about it later,” you say, smiling as your tears begin to dry.

  
-you watch his stony expression and realize you’re not going back home.

  
-“you’re too strong with the force. letting you go would be a waste,” he explains.

  
-you don’t cry as you’re led to your quarters. you curse yourself. you want to. you want to be sad and throw yourself on the floor as sobs wrack your body. but all you can do is marvel at your beautiful new room and wonder what fate has for you with this strange, handsome man.

  
-the very next day is your first training session with the infamous kylo ren. it’s strange that he wants to train you himself, but he believes snoke would be too harsh, and nobody else on board is strong enough. he’s the only one who can handle your level of power.

  
-you craft a lightsaber. it’s like his, but a pale pink instead of red. he says you’ll get a red one once you “prove yourself.” It’s similar to his with its three prongs, but two of yours are bent forward in a pitchfork-like shape.

  
-he teaches you to force choke on plastic dummies. you can see the cheap material dip and crinkle with the slightest effort from you. it’s immensely satisfying. you can’t wipe the sick smile off your face.

  
-you start to dress in more black. skin-tight bodysuits and leggings and jumpsuits. midnight colored caplets. you feel like a young god.

  
-during one training, he adjusts your grip on your saber. his leather-clad hands trail up your back. over your shoulder. skim down your arm. grip your hands. he looks into your eyes with a terrifying and beautiful intensity. his hair is disheveled. the mask and most of his armor is off.

  
-you’re so much smaller than him. a tiny little thing with coquette-ish sky blue eyes and baby-blonde bangs and pretty pouty lips. you’re a mess of smudged eyeliner and ruffled hair, standing there only in a sports bra and tight athletic pants. he looks at you like he wants to devour you.

  
-suddenly a pulse of energy goes through you, causing you to stumble back and drop your saber.

  
-he feels it too. he looks at you, wide-eyed. he says nothing.

  
-the next few nights you’re tortured with nightmares. you’re smothered by vision after vision of your father and brothers dying increasingly gruesome deaths. you watch, seemingly stranded behind glass that fills up with water second by second.

  
-on the fifth night, you wake up screaming. the visions follow you out of your dreams and into reality. there’s blood everywhere. you can’t stop it.

  
-kylo comes running in, saber drawn. his eyes are wild and feral and strike so much fear in you that you cower before him, hiding your face in your hands.

  
-he retracts the beam and drops the weapon, sitting on the bed beside you. he’s awkward at first, just repeating “it’s okay” over and over.

  
-then, the second his bare skin touches yours (he’s just wearing black joggers; no shirt, no gloves, no hood, nothing) a calm washes over you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. it’s peace and warmth and harmony and everything you never knew you needed. his hand just rests on your shoulder. then it begins to move in circles, in an odd massaging motion.

  
-he sees your eyes full of tears and is stricken with a need to protect you. to engulf you in his arms and keep you safe. and that’s what he does. he wraps his strong arms around you. “you’re safe, now,” he thinks. you hear him through the force bond.

  
-“lay down,” he says to you, his voice rough with sleep. you do, taking him with you. your face presses into his chest, so safe and so warm. he holds you crushingly tight like you can never get close enough. you let your eyes close. in your exhaustion, you think you feel his lips brush your forehead.

  
-the next night he’s back. “I didn’t want to waste time coming to your room if you start yelling again,” he says, almost under his breath. what he doesn’t tell you is that it was the first nightmare-free sleep he’d had in years.

  
-you fall back into his arms with ease, and your vision floods with his memories. unexpectedly, you see everything. his master holding his lightsaber, poised to strike. him, lonely and cold as he travels space looking for a way to survive in a world that has betrayed him. snoke’s abuse and evil. you see what exactly made him the man behind the mask.

  
-on his end, he sees you. he sees you as an outcast from a young age. tortured by grief; the weight of the world on your shoulders as you try to fill your dead mother’s shoes. breaking down in tears as you try to take care of your brothers- aged 6 months and two years old. he sees a quiet, kind soul taken advantage of, exploited, and downtrodden. a naive, sweet girl tempted to do terrible, terrible things.

  
-you feel each other's pain. as you do, it emboldens you to support the first order even more. just one more piece of revenge you can exact. as he does, it makes him feel immeasurable guilt for tainting your purity. you were once so good and he’s made you so bad.

  
-the next morning, you get ready with him still in your room. he watches you skim your hand over your moonstone necklace, the one piece of your old life that remains here. you wear it some days, but most of the time you don’t. you want to (as he says) “let the past die.” he picks it up, grabbing you by your arm. he sweeps aside your hair and loops the delicate chain around your neck.

  
-“it doesn’t match,” you say, gesturing to the rest of your jet black ensemble.

  
-“it doesn’t have to match to be beautiful,” he says. you’re standing in front of the light in your room, and it casts specks of light over your face when it hits the stone. “perfect,” he says carefully.

  
-he brings you before snoke. you wield your saber proudly. your hair is back in a severe bun, your bangs parted and pinned away. you wear a hood like kylo’s.

  
-“what a pretty little plaything you have, Ren,” Snoke says. “come closer.” you do, taking strong and sure steps.

  
-“she is not a plaything. she has a way with the force and is willing to join our side. she’ll be a strong asset,” kylo said in your defense. show him, he said to you.

  
-remembering your training, you raised your saber to execute one of the maneuvers he’d taught you, only to have it ripped from your hands. snoke had taken it via the force. he placed it on the armrest of his throne.

  
-“any girl can be taught fancy saber tricks... to be one with the dark side takes much more,” snoke said. he motioned to a guard. “get me the nearest worker.”

  
-a man was brought in. he was young, with jovial green eyes turning terrified as he saw the supreme leader. “kill him,” snoke said to you.

  
-“W-why?” you stuttered.

  
-“If you are to join us you will not ask questions. You will only do as you are told.”

  
-you faced the man, taking in his appearance. he had a curly head of brown hair tucked under a commander’s hat and laugh lines around his kind eyes. your chest ached as you lifted your hand. his feet came off the ground. hot tears began to burn in your eyes as you felt the energy flow around you and you began to apply more pressure. the man looked straight at you, begging. snoke teased and taunted you.

  
-“I’ve heard such tales of your strength! Where is it, little girl? I know it’s in you!” he called out. “I can feel it,” he said, closing his eyes. “You are filled with anger, preparing to use it.” you felt no anger, only pain. pain for this man whose life was being stripped away. “you can see the object of your hatred.” I don’t hate him, you thought. “just one moment more and he’ll be gone. you have him exactly as you-“

  
-snoke made a gasping, choking noise so startling you dropped the man you’d been holding up. you gave him a look meaning run, and he did. you spun around to see kylo, murderous rage in his eyes as he pinned snoke to the throne, choking him. then, with one sweeping movement, he activated his lightsaber and sent it plunging into snoke’s heart.

  
-there was a long silence before kylo said “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” at first you thought he was referring to killing the supreme leader. that is until he drew you close to him.

  
-it’s sudden and tears are still running down your face when his lips find yours. it’s clumsy. it’s your first kiss and his first in... a while. you stand as tall as you can on your toes and he bends to close the distance. you’re you find yourself sighing into the kiss, feeling a myriad of things. most prominently, relief. the joy you feel when finding a light switch after stumbling around in the dark. the world seemed to light up around you.

  
-he pulls away. “be my queen,” he says in an earnest tone you’ve never heard from him. he seems to beg. “rule alongside me. bring order and balance to the galaxy.”

  
-all you can say is yes.

  
-that night he brings you to his room. it’s five times the size of yours with soaring ceilings. in the center, against the wall is a bed that’s far too big for one person. it’s across from a roaring hologram of a fireplace. the left wall is all glass. all black void. the stars are dashes of glitter in a great, big pool of ink.

  
-you can’t move your eyes from the bed. it daunts you. taunts you. you think about all you could do in it. all he could do to you in it. and then you think of all the things he might have done, maybe thinking of you. of your body. you’ve caught him more than once mapping your curves under your clothes. you know he wants you.

  
-he starts gentle, just moving a hair from your face. he kisses the spot it reveals before making a path for your lips. then you’re on the bed. you lose your cape. he sucks a dark mark into your neck, and you moan and writhe beneath him in bliss. clothes are shed quickly. his hands are everywhere. then his fingers are inside you- long and thick and nearly tearing you apart. he grunts out a few words about how small you are and how he’ll have to be careful. you don’t want that. you want him to break you.

  
-in the actual act, he’s gentle. his size makes it difficult. it’s nearly impossible, but you make it somehow. you feel heavenly and worshipped as he takes you. he holds you, kissing you, soothing you, whispering praise. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt.

  
-the next morning, when you wake up with his arms around you, you know peace.


End file.
